


Right Where We Are

by SadieHerondale



Series: Transitions [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (I'm so happy I finally get to use those tags), Ballet Dancer Yuri Plisetsky, Families of Choice, Friends to Lovers, Ice Skating, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Trans Male Character, Trans Yuri Plisetsky, Unconventional Families, he's still a skater but i mean it's relevant, i mean it's kind of a given but it actually has a purpose in this one so, yeah we're going that route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9588185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadieHerondale/pseuds/SadieHerondale
Summary: After all the bullshit that's happened, everything in Yuri's life is finally starting to settle. That is to say, he's back to dealing with his original issue: how the hell he's supposed to survive letting Otabek live with him until April, when it's onlyDecember.~~~As usual, you should 100%notbe starting the series from this work, nothing will make sense.





	1. You Breathe Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outside of himself, only Lilia and Yuuri (and Victor, no doubt) actually know what theme he’ll be skating this year.

It shouldn’t surprise Yuri that Anna isn’t a morning person. Granted, they leave at five for training most days, so he supposes that it’s not that unusual for an almost-teenager to be pissed off. He wouldn’t know; he’s been getting up this early for years.

“Come on.” He pokes at her a bit, not really sure how to go about waking someone else up. “You don’t even need to get dressed. You can just bring a bag or something.”

Beka is just leaning against the doorframe, mug in hand and eyebrows raised. Yuri kind of wants to smack that amused look off of his face. It hasn’t even been twenty four hours since Anna has moved in, and Beka is already teasing him.  

“You know, you could help out a bit too. You have sisters, right?” he snaps.

Beka rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t look in the slightest bit surprised. “Anna-- Sorry,  _ Kitten _ , we’ll have enough time to pick up coffee on the way if we leave in the next few minutes.”

Anna sits up groggily. “Give me three minutes to throw a bag together, please.”

For a moment, Yuri questions whether a twelve year old should be drinking coffee, but he remembers that he started around eleven, so he can’t really talk. He just agrees and leaves the room with Beka. True to her word down to the second, Anna stalks out of her room with a duffle bag and a jacket-- or rather, she hobbles out on her crutches with a murderous look on her face.

Yuri takes her bag and shoulders it along with his own, and they head down to the car. “You’ll get used to it eventually, Annichka.”

“Ugh.”

It’s almost fascinating to see this grumpy version of his sunny, outgoing sister. She dozes as he drives, and the ride to the rink is as quiet as usual. He and Beka never say much this early in the morning, either. They stop at a drive through coffee place and get something that’s more sugar than coffee for Anna.

Still, she looks like she’s nodding off when Yuri turns into the parking lot for the rink. “Come on, котиться. You can sleep inside if you want.”

Beka grabs all three of their bags without a word, leaving Yuri free to pick Anna up. It’s not a huge deal for him, but he can tell that it makes her uncomfortable.  _ Why wouldn’t it?  _ he thinks, walking toward the entrance.  _ She’s almost thirteen. I don’t want her using crutches in the snow, though, so she’ll have to deal with it for a while. _

He sets her down once they get under the overhang, heading back to get the crutches and lock the car. They can hear the telltale scrape of skates on ice as soon as the door opens; Yuri would never admit it out loud, but the sound always makes him feel more at home than anything else. He breathes a little easier, thinks a little less, feels a little more alive every time he walks into this building.

They’ve barely entered the rink area before Anna is bombarded with Russian skaters twice her size asking if she’s okay, how she’s doing, what Yuri’s apartment is like, and a bunch of other shit that doesn’t actually matter. Yuri is about to get them to back off when Anna does it herself, fixing them with a wrathful look that reminds him a lot of himself. He remembers that she’s still grumpy and sleep deprived, and holds in his laughter at the way everyone backs up a step.

“I appreciate that you’re all worried about my well being,” Anna says in a clipped, polite tone that contrasts entirely with the look on her face, “but I’m going to have to ask that you wait until it’s not so early in the morning to ask.”

“Why are you Plisetskys so scary?” Mila pouts, crossing her arms.

Yuri rolls his eyes and starts heading for the changing room. “Don’t ask stupid questions, hag. Come on, Annichka. The locker rooms should be quieter.”

Anna sits on a bench quietly while Yuri stows his stuff in his locker and sheds his snow gear to reveal his thin black t-shirt and leggings. “You can stay in here if you want to get some more sleep,” he offers, grabbing his skates. “There’s a couch in the room over there.”

“I’m already awake. May as well watch practice.” Anna takes a long drink of coffee.

Yuri shrugs and slings his skates over his shoulder by the laces. “Whatever you want to do.”

When they go back out, Mila is the only one on the ice. Georgi is still stretching, and it looks like Victor and Yuuri are discussing something in the corner. Beka is taking off his shoes.

“Yura, we still need to discuss your theme for next season,” Yakov says as soon as Yuri starts running through his usual pre-warmup stretches.

“Huh? I sent you links last night to the pieces I want to do,” Yuri says.

“There’s no theme connecting them,” Yakov says, looking as frustrated as he always does at the start of practice.

Yuri rolls his eyes and bends over to stretch out the back of his legs. “There’s never a connection until the choreography happens, Yakov,” he says through the gap in his legs, “I have one in mind, so just let me do the goddamn pieces.”

Yakov doesn’t look convinced. “ [ That Italian one ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1moEGYoxyi8) you want for your free skate won’t be easy to choreograph.”

_ Actually,  _ Yuri thinks as he straightens out,  _ that’s the one I’ve been considering for a while.  _ “Lilia and I have already finished the choreography for that one. And I have the jump composition for both, too. Who the hell do you think I am?”

It’s a moment before Yakov responds. Yuri can’t tell if he’s deciding on the issue or trying to keep himself from committing homicide. With Yakov and Yuri, it could go either way.

“If your choreography isn’t complete shit, we can talk,” he finally says. Yuri smirks. Looks like he’s won this one.

He puts on his skates and does a few laps around the edge of the ice so that he doesn’t interfere with Mila’s practice. Once his limbs loosen up enough, Yuri steps off the ice and unlaces his skates. “Beka, help.”

Yuri’s socks move easily along the floor as he slides into a split. Beka walks up behind him and presses his shoulders forward firmly. It’s the best stretch Yuri has been able to find for his back and sides, but when Otabek isn’t around he normally doesn’t do it. The one time he asked Mila, she nearly broke his spine.

“Okay,” he manages to say loudly enough for Beka to hear. He lets up on Yuri slowly so that his muscles don’t snap back into place too quickly. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I think we broke your sister though.” He points to the bleachers where Anna is sitting, looking completely stunned.

Yuri knows what she’s thinking, and rolls his eyes. There are so many reasons that Beka isn’t his boyfriend and never will be, but the most relevant is that Beka just doesn’t like him like that. It’s fine. Yuri is fine with just being friends, especially since it’s more than he had before Beka came into his life at all.

“Not a word,” he warns her, leaning to his right to stretch out his side. Otabek presses one hand into his shoulder and the other into his waist to stretch the muscles further.

Yuri can’t seem to make eye contact with Anna no matter how hard he tries. She’s absorbed in her phone, or pretending to be. He’s sure she’s staring every time he looks away, probably trying to decide how best to interrogate the two of them later. He ignores it for now. If Anna starts distracting him from practice, there could be an issue.

Yakov is yelling at Georgi when he finally finishes stretching. “Hey, old man! Get your ass over here!”

“Show your coach some respect, you brat!” Yakov yells back without missing a beat. “Wait your turn!”

“Georgi being emo has nothing to do with you, geezer,” Yuri seethes. He just wants to get on the ice, but Yakov definitely won’t allow that until he’s seen the choreography.

He’ll never admit to it out loud, but he got Yuuri to help him out with it. Just this once. He’s not planning to announce his theme to the world, or even his rinkmates. If they know him well enough, they’ll figure it out on their own. If not, he wouldn’t blame them. Outside of himself, only Lilia and Yuuri (and Victor, no doubt) actually know what theme he’ll be skating this year.

Yuri opens the digital notepad on his phone and scans the choreography again. He’s got three different variations on it, as usual, each harder than the next in case he really needs to rack up points.  _ I really hope I never fuck up bad enough to need them though,  _ he thinks, nose twitching in disgust at just the thought.  _ Even the basic one is almost inhuman. _

By the time Yakov comes over, even Victor is already on the ice. Beka isn’t but that’s because he seems to be discussing something with Anna.

“If you get too distracted, Yakov’s going to be up your ass,” Yuri warns him. Then he realises how that could be interpreted and backpedals. “Not that you’re a distraction, Annichka.”

“It’s okay, Yul… Yuri.” Anna looks down with a shy smile. “I know what you meant.”

“Yura!” Yakov snaps them out of their concentration. “Move your ass already, you’ve been standing there pouting for ten minutes and you aren’t even wearing your shoes."

“Fuck off, I’ve been waiting for you.” Yuri spins on his heel and stalks to the bench to put on the pointe shoes he wears for off-the-ice practice.

“He’s only doing as I’ve taught him, Yakov.” Lilia’s voice scares the shit out of him; he hadn’t even seen her come in. She’s as severe as ever, if a little more grey. “Dance shoes are not meant to be worn when one isn’t dancing.”

Yuri pulls down his lower eyelid and sticks his tongue out at Yakov, only to be smacked upside the head by Lilia. “Behave yourself and get to the studio, Yuratchka.”

The “studio” isn’t actually a studio; it wouldn’t make sense to have one in an ice rink, at least to most people. It’s a locker room that they cleared out last year. Lilia demanded that they have the floor redone, since tile isn’t ideal for ballet practice. She also demanded that a barre be put in so that she can help the other skaters with flexibility training. It’s definitely Yuri that use it the most, since his skating style is essentially ballet on ice these days.

Sometimes, when Lilia is in a particularly good mood, she calls him a “danseur of duality.” Every one if his routines is a comprehensive ballet piece before he even sets foot on the ice. This one is no different.

Lilia follows Yuri immediately, but Yakov seems to be lagging, scrutinizing Yuuri’s jumps out of habit. “Oi, geezer!” Yuri snaps. “You told me to wait my turn, get your ass over here!”

Yakov rolls his eyes and follows, only pausing to yell at no one in particular: “If I catch a single one of you slacking, you’ll all be doing conditioning for the rest of the day!”

Yuri resists the urge to snort. As if any of them slack off, whether Yakov is there or not. They’re all idiots, but at least they’re dedicated. As long as they don’t get distracted by the addition of someone new to their practice, that is.

The door to the studio shuts behind them and Yuri lets out a breath.  _ Okay,  _ he thinks, tying his hair back so that it’s out of his face.  _ Time to practice.  _

 


	2. For Angels to Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coupled with the unresolved stress he’s been carrying around for the past few days, it’s a wonder that Yuri isn’t going crazy right now.

Whatever Otabek thought he signed up for, he’s sure it wasn’t an interrogation. And certainly not one conducted by a twelve year old when he’s supposed to be practicing. Every time he steps off the ice for water or, in this case, lunch, she’s on him immediately.

“Beka, you promised.” Anna crosses her arms petulantly. “Why haven’t you come clean yet?”

_ Why is it always the younger siblings that want to meddle in my nonexistent love life?  _ Otabek wonders, stretching out his arms behind his back. His older sister doesn’t bother him about Yuri this much, but it’s almost like his younger sister and Anna are completely in sync. Neither of them lets up on him about confessing.

He’s not sure he’s going to, honestly. He remembers the first words he ever spoke to Anna, the promise he made two years ago:  _ If and when I’m sure that he feels that way about me, I’ll ask him out. Okay? _

And Yuri seems fine with the way they are. There’s no sign that his heart pounds when Otabek is nearby, the way his does for Yuri. Other than Anna’s insistence, which could very well be because of the overdeveloped sense of romanticism that comes with puberty, there’s not a single thing that points to Yuri being even half as infatuated with Otabek as Otabek is with him. Which is, of course, fine. Yuri isn’t obligated to feel anything toward Otabek, and his feelings are his own problem.

“Yuri wants to stay friends,” is all Otabek says out loud. “I’m not going to disrespect his boundaries.”

It’s an argument that he’s used before. In fact, it’s nearly his go-to argument, because it’s the truth. Nothing Anna or his sister says or does is going to change that. As usual, Anna lets it lie. She already knows that there’s no way she’s going to get anywhere with him.

He’s about to start lacing his skates when someone’s phone goes off, playing some piece of classical music that sounds vaguely familiar. Beethoven, Otabek thinks, but he can’t be sure. It’s almost like a switch is flipped. Every skater on the ice heads toward an exit.

“That was the seven hour mark, right Mila-san?” Yuuri asks, putting on his skate guards and removing the skates themselves.

Mila taps a few buttons on her phone, and the music stops. “Yeah.”

“Make damned sure he doesn’t hear you this time,” Yakov says, crossing his arms. He’d come back from the studio about an hour after leaving with Yuri, grumbling that  _ maybe it’s not total shit. If he wants to do something like that, I’m not going to be able to convince him otherwise. _

Anna looks at Otabek in confusion, but he's as perplexed as she is. He shrugs. “No clue.”

“I’m staying here with Anna,” Yuuri says to the room as a whole. Otabek isn’t exactly skilled in reading Yuuri, since the man is usually an open book, but there’s something in his expression that makes Otabek think that there’s more to that decision than meets the eye.

He doesn’t say anything. He barely even has the chance to, since Mila immediately slings an arm around him and drags him toward the studio. Otabek actually hasn’t been inside the studio since arriving in Moscow; Yuri disappears in there every day after warming up, and it’s clear that no one really bothers him when he does.  _ Except now, apparently,  _ Otabek thinks.

“You’re going to love this,” Mila says, opening a door a few feet away from the one Yuri always goes through.

The room looks like an office, and the glass is tinted in a way that makes Otabek think that it’s actually one-sided. The room behind the glass brings back bittersweet memories-- he’s never been particularly fond of ballet, but it reminds him of the day he realized what true strength is. Yuri is standing in the corner, water bottle tipped up as far as it will go as Lilia speaks to him. Otabek can’t be sure if the shine on his face is sweat or just the tinted glass playing tricks on him.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Otabek turns to Mila and Georgi. “What are we doing here?”

“The four of us have been skating together for a little less than ten years,” Georgi says. “Victor too. It’s tradition.”

“Yes, but what exactly are we doing? He can’t even see us.”

Victor smiles wide. “He’s not supposed to. We watch each other’s routines as soon as they’re polished enough, but we never know when the others are here. It’s fun!”

“You’re one of us now, so you get to watch too. Look, he’s starting!” Mila shushes them and turns Otabek’s face forcibly toward the window. “Watch.”

Yuri takes a deep breath and crosses his wrists, bending his left knee and pointing that foot toward the floor. Its his starting position, it looks like. He just stands there for a moment, waiting for Lilia to start the music.

Her voice carries through the glass, muffled but distinguishable. “Remember who you are this time. I don’t want to see her in your eyes.”

Otabek half expects Yuri to snap something back at her, but he just nods, as if this is something they've already discussed. Lilia starts the music, and Yuri bursts into motion, leaping and twirling at twice the tempo of the song. That doesn't surprise Otabek as much as the low whistle that Georgi, of all people, lets out.

“That’s intense.”

Other than the music, there isn't another sound until Yuri reaches his finishing pose, hands clasped and reaching toward the sky. With a jolt, Otabek recognizes the finishing pose from his senior debut.

He’s at a loss for words for more reasons than one. It seems a little like they're seeing the end of a story before reading the beginning. There’s a deeper meaning there that he can’t quite grasp. That was undoubtedly a ballet; he can't even begin to see how it will translate to the ice, but there’s one thing that Otabek knows for sure. Yuri is going to be an even tougher competitor than usual this year.

They all leave the room as quietly as possible, though the point of this whole thing is still lost on Otabek. It isn't uncommon for skaters to practice their programs off the ice, but that wasn't ice skating.

“That’s Yurio’s style,” Victor says, correctly interpreting Otabek’s confusion. “Once you know how to interpret the dance, you can see the program.”

“If he can pull off that free skate, he’ll blow the other Yuuri’s record right out of the water,” Mila says, looking thoughtful as the re-enter the rink. “Why on earth did you approve something that intense, Yakov?”  

“Because he can handle it. If you have enough time to worry about that, go work on your own routines!” Yakov snaps, and that’s the end of it, even though Otabek still only has a vague idea of what’s going on.

It’s back to business as usual for the rest of the day, but that routine stays in the back of Otabek’s mind the whole time. Anna eventually moves to sit near an outlet and charges her phone. Yuuri seems to be working on his jump composition, and Victor, Mila, Georgi, and Otabek are perfecting their various step sequences.

_ What is his theme?  _ Otabek wonders for the millionth time as Yuri finally leaves the studio, looking exhausted. He's so preoccupied that he barely even thinks twice when Yuri asks him if he’ll take Anna to the car this time. Yuri takes the crutches and the bags from Anna carefully, and doesn't say much on the ride back to the apartment.

“You can shower first,” Yuri says when they walk into the apartment.

_ That’s unusual,  _ Otabek thinks, but he doesn't question it. It’s the first full day Yuri has had with Anna, and he probably just wants to spend some actual time with her outside of the rink.  _ It’s a bit worrying that he hasn’t really looked at me, though. I wonder if he’s okay. _

He never really got to release whatever emotions he was dealing with last night. Otabek makes a mental note to ask Yuri about it after Anna goes to sleep. By the time he’s out of the shower, the two of them are already eating and laughing. If Yuri’s smile looks a little bit strained, Otabek doesn’t comment. It’s probably best not to.

Anna goes to sleep early with the excuse that “I think I’m going to need the sleep tomorrow morning.”

It’s not even ten when the door to her room closes, but Otabek finds that he’s actually glad of it. Anna is at the age where she can be more or less independent within a controlled environment like the apartment. It would have been a lot more difficult to adjust to living with an eight or nine year old, but Anna is like her brother: they both grew up too fast.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Yuri mutters. “Hope you don’t mind that my hair’s going to be damp.”

The thought barely even reaches his list of priorities, honestly. “Not at all. I’ll handle the dishes.”

He keeps an ear out when Yuri disappears down the hall. The shower doesn’t turn on for some time. But by the time Otabek is finished with the kitchen nearly thirty minutes later, it still hasn’t turned off.

When he walks into the room that he’s sharing with Yuri (he can’t seem to bring himself to think of it as  _ their room,  _ especially since Otabek is just a guest; Yuri is just trying to be a decent friend), the bathroom door is open. The shower is still running, but Yuri is sitting on the floor in front of the toilet, wrapped in a towel. His eyes are dry. It looks almost like he’s just staring into space.

Otabek closes the door to the bedroom behind him and knocks carefully on the frame of the bathroom door. “Yura? Is something wrong?”

Yuri shakes his head. “I’ll be okay.”

His hair is still wet. At this rate, he’s going to catch a cold. “Do you need--”

_ “Don’t touch me.”  _ The words aren’t angry, but they’re ugent in a way that Otabek has never heard from him. Yuri takes a long breath. “Sorry, Beka. This free skate program… just don’t touch me.”

_ Oh.  _ Otabek could kick himself for not recognizing what was going on sooner.

_ “Remember who you are this time,”  _ Lilia had said earlier.  _ “I don’t want to see her in your eyes.”  _ He hadn’t understood what she meant at first, but now it makes perfect sense.

Yuri has mentioned dysphoria a few times, never really going in depth about it. One thing that he’s always made clear, though, is that there are certain things that make it much worse than usual-- particularly when it comes to skating. Coupled with the unresolved stress he’s been carrying around for the past few days, it’s a wonder that Yuri isn’t going crazy right now.

Outward compassion has never been Otabek’s strong suit. He wants to help, but he can never come up with a full solution. So he does what he can; he tosses a second towel to Yuri’s side. “If you don’t dry your hair, you’re going to catch a cold.”

He turns off the shower and leaves the bathroom, entirely sure that Yuri needs some space. He’s hyperaware of every sound Yuri makes, but he tries to distract himself with his phone until Yuri comes back a few minutes later.

The towel is still wrapped tightly around him, but Otabek can see the edge of a wrap bandage peeking out from under it. Otabek wants to say something-- he’s sure that Yuri is supposed to sleep without anything constricting his chest --but something tells him that the bandages aren’t tight enough to cause a problem. He trusts Yuri to know how to take care of himself.

Otabek turns around so Yuri can change into pajamas. There’s not a sound from either of them. Not that there needs to be. Otabek is sure that Yuri will talk when he’s ready, whether that’s tonight or not. They go to sleep early most nights anyway; it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.

After they get in bed, Yuri curls in on himself a bit and doesn’t fall asleep for a long while. Otabek can’t even begin to imagine what he’s going through, but he respects Yuri’s wishes and gives him as much space as possible. Despite the physical exhaustion they’re both plagued with by the end of practice every day, he can’t seem to fall asleep until Yuri does. At least if Yuri is asleep, he’s not hurting. When Otabek finally manages to fall asleep, Yuri is still curled at the very furthest edge of the bed and the clock says that it’s nearly eleven thirty. It’s physically difficult not to reach out and comfort Yuri now that he’s asleep.

Still, when he wakes up feeling too-warm and inhaling blond hair, Otabek is pretty sure that he made the right choice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~  
> **  
> _I know I said not much angst but like there was no way this wasn't going to happen at some point so_  
>  **  
>  ~~


	3. Putting On a Brave Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triple lutz quad Salchow combination. The Salchow turns into an over rotated triple, but that’s fine for now; it’s his first go at this routine on the ice, and it’s going a lot better than he expected it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm late!! I'm sure you noticed!!! Sorry about that!!!! (Also went back and changed _every single misspelling of Otabek's nickname so that it says Beka now I apologize._ Why did no one tell me?)

Yuri wakes up feeling warmer than usual. It takes him a minute to remember that there’s another person in bed with him, and he blearily realizes that Beka is still on the other side of the bed.

_ “Don’t touch me,”  _ he remembers saying in a panic, trapped by his own skin, his own body, his own mind. Even in his sleep, Beka is doing what Yuri asked.  

But right now, it’s nearly two in the morning and Yuri isn’t entirely awake or entirely recovered. He shifts closer sleepily. He’s rewarded with Beka’s arm wrapping around him unconsciously, and Yuri falls back asleep fairly quickly, keeping his mind blank by sheer force of will.

When the alarm goes off three hours later, he wants to smack it off. Beka shakes his shoulder tiredly. “Yura, wake up.”

“I am.” Yuri rolls over and his head falls a few inches to the mattress. He blinks sleepily and realizes that he’d had his head on Beka’s shoulder. His face feels hot. “Sorry.”

“Huh?” Beka sounds tired. “For what?”

Yuri holds back a snort.  _ Everything. Bringing a new roommate in when you’re visiting. Breaking down twice in the last three days.  _ “Strangling you with my hair.”

“I don’t mind.” He gets out of bed and opens the dresser, pulling out a blue t-shirt. “Do you want me to change in the bathroom?”

The  _ would it make you more comfortable  _ goes unasked, but Yuri hears it anyway. He’s grateful. Still… “No. I’ll use it.”

Otabek nods once and turns toward the wall, pulling his shirt over his head. Yuri doesn’t stick around to watch for more reasons than one, grabbing his tiger shirt, some underwear, and one of his countless pairs of leggings before heading for the bathroom and closing the door.

_ It’s cold,  _ he thinks, playing with the hem of his shirt for a moment. He’s just prolonging the inevitable; he’s going to have to take it off soon, and deal with the feeling of being bare chested for the few minutes that it takes for him to put on his binder.  _ I’ll be fine,  _ he tells himself sternly, gripping the edge of the shirt.  _ I need to get dressed so I can wake up Anna and get to practice. _

He takes a deep breath and lifts the shirt over his head, purposefully looking away from the mirror. The binder zips into place. That familiar pressure makes the anxiety abate a bit.

_ Yeah,  _ he thinks, pulling on his leggings and shirt.  _ I’m fine. _

Yuri grabs a hair tie and leaves the bathroom. Beka is packing his gym bag already. Yuri runs a brush through his hair and ties it back into a ponytail before reaching into the closet for his snow jacket, a few stray strands falling into his eyes.

“Yura, your hair is uneven.” Beka’s voice is matter-of-fact, but but there’s a little hesitation in his voice. “Do you want me to…”

On one hand, he’s not sure he wants to be touched. There’s something about feeling trapped in his own skin that makes it hard for Yuri to want to accept contact. On the other hand, it generally makes him feel a little better-- at least, that’s his experience with Yuuri and Victor. It’s also a closely guarded secret of Yuri’s that he  _ really  _ like having his hair touched.

He gives in and sits on the bed, back facing Beka. “Sure.”

The hair is already brushed out, but Beka takes his time anyway, running the comb through Yuri’s hair methodically. It’s one of those cheap, disposable travel combs that only works on really fine hair like his. He feels rather than sees when Beka puts it down, running his fingers along the side of Yuri’s head to separate the hair that isn’t long enough to stay in the ponytail. It’s nice. Yuri can admit that to himself, at least. It’s only a few minutes, but it calms the storm coursing through his veins for the moment.

“I’m done,” Beka says, dropping his hands. “We should probably get going.”

Yuri nods and stands up. His bag is already packed for the day, so he grabs it and heads to the front room.  _ I should wake Anna up soon,  _ he thinks, turning on the coffee maker. There’s no coffee in it; there never is. It’s just a really efficient way to make hot water for tea, since they aren’t allowed to drink coffee before practice. Afterward it’s fair game, but the caffeine crash isn’t helpful in any way since they’re supposed to be sticking to a strict training schedule.

The idea of touching anyone is less repugnant that it was yesterday, but it’s still not exactly appealing. Yuri has an idea, and throws a teabag to Beka when he walks into the kitchen. “Drop those into the water for me and head down to the car. We’ll be there soon.”

Beka nods. “Do you want me to bring her crutches too?”

He hadn’t even thought of that. “Yeah.”

It’s surprisingly easy for Yuri to hand Beka the keys to his car. Even when their fingers brush for a second, Yuri doesn’t flinch. It’s a good sign, he’s sure. Maybe he’s levelling out a bit.

Anna is completely asleep when he opens the door to her room, and it’s not likely that she’ll wake up anytime soon if this works. He admits that he feels a bit bad about having to wake her up so early in the morning, but the only way that she would be able to avoid that would be living with Grandpa, since Victor and Yuuri follow the same schedule. And given the choice between Yuri and Grandpa, she had chosen Yuri.

He glances around the room for the duffle bag that Anna had brought with her yesterday.  _ If I know my sister,  _ Yuri thinks, unzipping it as quietly as possible,  _ she’s already… yep. She’s already packed. Jacket too. _

That makes things a lot less awkward. He throws her snow boots in the bag and shoulders it before carefully pulling back the covers and scooping Anna up into his arms. She stirs, but doesn’t fully wake up. Good. That was the point. He manages to get her downstairs and into the car without waking her up either.

Beka already has the heater going, and Yuri is grateful when he slides into the driver’s seat to find the car a thousand times warmer than the garage. He sees Beka glance toward the back seat.

“An extra half hour of sleep to a Plisetsky is worth more than a gold medal,” Yuri says by way of explanation, pulling out of the garage.

It’s a few minutes before Beka responds. “Victor was right.”

“What do you mean?” That’s a pretty random thing to hear from Otabek, of all people. He thought that Beka saw Victor as something of a moron, actually (which he totally is, and Yuri encourages that viewpoint every time Beka voices it aloud).

“You’re a good father,” Beka says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

That really shouldn’t make Yuri’s heart race the way it does. He’s never liked kids, or the idea of having any of his own. The idea still isn’t that appealing, despite the fact that technically, he’s at least Anna’s guardian now. So why on earth do the words seem like they mean so much more than they probably do?

_ It’s just my hormones going haywire from last night,  _ Yuri tells himself firmly, turning into the parking lot of the rink.  _ I’m still not at 100% yet. I already knew that. _

“I guess,” is all he says as he pulls into the spot and turns off the engine. “She needs a decent parent anyway. May as well be me.”

He does have to wake Anna up before they head inside though, since he wants her wearing her snow jacket and boots even for the few seconds that they’ll be outside. She’s as grumpy as before, but he can tell that she’s grateful for the extra sleep. He might be able to convince her to actually use the couch in the break room to get another hour or two.

She’s tired enough to bury her face in his neck to avoid the snowflakes that would otherwise land on her face. Yuri stiffens for a second when he feels her nose nudge the shoulder strap of his binder, but when she doesn’t react, he relaxes.

_ Just the hormones making me more twitchy than usual,  _ he reminds himself.

He doesn’t end up convincing Anna to sleep any more, even though he thinks she probably should. By the time they get to the rink, she’s squirming in his grasp in an attempt to be let down.

“Yura!” Yakov shouts, almost immediately. “You’re on the ice first. An hour and a half, and I want to see the jump composition from that crazy routine of yours at least twice!”

“Yakov is loud,” Anna mutters irritably, taking her crutches from Otabek. She heads to the bleachers without really talking to anyone else; Yuri has the feeling that that’s going to be a daily occurrence.

He runs through his warmups and stretches as quickly as he can without tearing anything, eager as hell to get on the ice. He plugs in his headphones and sets the song on loop, warming up his legs further by practicing his step sequences.

“Sloppy!” Yakov snaps, more than once. “Your spirals look like shit and your transitions are fractured.”

Yuri rolls his eyes, but does as he’s told and does a few more spirals for practice. It takes about half an hour for Yakov to give him the go-ahead on triples and quads. “But take those headphones out and play it on the speakers.”

“What the fuck? Why? You said you only wanted the jump composition!”

“Well now I’m saying I want the whole routine, since your step sequences are shit and you need the practice!” is Yakov’s immediate response.

“Fuck you, they’re not that bad!” And they’re not. He knows they’re not. Even as he says that, though, Yuri unplugs the headphones and links his phone to the wireless speakers, rewinding the song back to the beginning and giving the phone to Yakov.

The two of them have the same discussion every time he has a new routine; he’s half convinced that Yakov just wants to see Yuri fuck up the routine on his first try. He always does; hell, everyone does. Getting a routine perfect on the first try is damn near impossible, even for monsters like Victor.

“Come on, get into position you lazy ass,” Yakov says, finger poised over the play button.

Yuri skates to the center of the rink and does as he’s told. Through the quiet chatter that’s always present in the rink, Lilia’s voice rings in his ears, drowning everything else out with stern orders.  _ Arms forward, wrists crossed, as if you’re being bound. Left toe pick barely scratching the tip of the ice. Keep your balance, don’t fall. You are a prisoner about to be executed. _

The music starts, and Yuri’s arms go up as he pushes off into his first step sequence.  _ You are a prisoner confined by your chains,  _ he remembers, tightening his muscle to make his movements seem more forced. He bends back as far as he can without compromising his center of gravity, before sinking into a sit spin.  _ Now you have been killed.  _ As he rises from the crouch and moves across the ice, he thinks of the next part of the story.

_ Now you fight.  _ He takes off into a quad Salchow triple lutz combination right off the bat, stumbling a bit in the landing. Yuri expected that; if the Salchow is his strongest jump, the lutz is his weakest by far. That’s the point.  _ Fight,  _ he thinks, moving into an intense step sequence that takes up half the rink. Triple flip into a spiral, to help transition into the next part.

His movements slow down as he pushes off into a quadruple toe loop double Salchow combo.  _ Remember what you are fighting for. Remember what you died for. Picture it in your mind.  _ Someone else’s smile flits across his thoughts for an instant.

_ Now fight harder.  _ It’s the second half. He’s breathing hard, but he’s sure he can land the next three jumps. Quad flip. Slightly under-rotated, but still passable. Triple lutz quad Salchow combination. The Salchow turns into an over rotated triple, but that’s fine for now; it’s his first go at this routine on the ice, and it’s going a lot better than he expected it to.

_ You break through the earth with a final push.  _ A quad axel, the highest difficulty, highest ranked jump that exists for the moment. Not only does it turn into a triple, but he lands with a hand on the ice. He moves into a spiral to use up that momentum, then ends with his wrists together, arms raised with his palms facing the ceiling. He realizes that, for once, Yulia hasn’t made a single appearance, and thinks that maybe it has something to do with the wide blue eyes watching him skate for the first time in two years.

_ And now,  _ Yuri thinks, chest heaving with exhaustion, arms raised high,  _ you live again.  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case nobody wants to go back and count, yes. That _is_ five quads, with three of them in the second half and three of them combinations. I meant it when I said that the routine is almost superhuman. (Before you riot, this is still _fiction,_ and fictional characters can do five quads.) Anyone care to guess what Yuri's theme is in a word?


	4. To Refine the Purest of Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Maybe I just wanted something to change._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooooooooo my god this is late I'm so so so so so sorry. I've been doing a lot and this has been pretty low on my list of priorities but it's up and I hope you like it!

Otabek is in shock when he sees that routine. _Five quads,_ he thinks, remembering his own free skate. _I only have three, and even that’s hard to handle. Is he actually going to try for a quad axel as his last jump?_

There’s a tug on his sleeve and Otabek startles when he sees that Anna has made her way over to him on her crutches. “Beka,” she says, all traces of fatigue gone from her voice, “What on earth did we just see?”

 _I’m not entirely sure myself,_ Otabek thinks back to the ballet routine he saw yesterday and yes, that was exactly the same thing, just on ice. That’s easily the highest difficulty routine that he’s ever seen, and Yuri is closer to perfecting it than Otabek is to perfecting his own. That probably has a lot to do with him memorizing the steps in the studio, but there’s no doubt that the routine is also steeped with emotion.

Anna smacks him lightly on the arm. “Hey. Earth to moony eyes. Beka. I’m talking to you.”

“Oh.” He still hasn’t answered her question. “I don’t know how much you know about skating, but…”

“Just correct me if I’m wrong. He could hurt himself doing that, right? All those quads?” She’s the picture of composure, but he can see the undercurrent of panicked concern in her eyes.

 _Of course,_ he realizes. _He’s all she has left._ He doesn’t know exactly how to respond to erase her fear, so he just goes with honesty. Both Yuri and Anna seem to hate getting sugar-coated truths and Otabek, coincidentally, stinks at giving them.

“He could hurt himself even if he wasn’t doing a single quad. That’s just the risk he’s taking by skating.” _For you,_ he doesn’t add.

It hadn’t escaped Otabek’s attention that Yuri’s eyes had been fixed on the ice for the entire routine, face contemplative instead of fierce the way it normally is when he’s skating. No matter what the theme ends up being, the routine itself is introspective; the only person in the world who’s able to make Yuri look like that is Anna.

Sometimes he wonders if he should be bitter about it, but he can’t bring himself to be. It was one of the first tangible things he learned about Yuri, in the hallway of that hotel in Barcelona: he loves his family, and he loves them fiercely. There’s no way he could be upset at that. Not when it’s one of Otabek’s favorite things about him.

Anna’s hand waves in front of his face and he blinks back to the present just in time to see her stumble, the crutch she let go of almost falling away from her. He catches it before it can get out of her reach, and she looks at him. Maybe he said the right thing, because she looks less worried now.

“You’re ridiculous, Beka,” is all she says, the beginnings of a fond grin on her face. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for a solid minute.”

“I’m sorry.” He means it. His own sisters have to go through the same thing with him all the time; he can’t help the fact that he spaces out sometimes.

“You two are so…” Anna shakes her head, still smiling. “Never mind.”

Yakov is still yelling critiques at Yuri, and Yuri is still yelling back that _fuck you, I know the quad axel needs work._ Yuuri and Victor are taking turns helping each other “stretch” (Otabek has his doubts, but he keeps that to himself) and Mila looks like she’s helping Georgi practice his footwork. The casual attitude doesn’t fool Otabek though; every single one of them is thinking about the free skate they just witnessed.

They don’t see it again, either. At least, not in full. Maybe Yakov noticed Yuri’s fingers subtly messing with the straps under his shirt in agitation, like Otabek did; maybe he didn’t. But he doesn’t make Yuri do the whole thing again, instead putting him through grueling drills on his jumps and footwork for the rest of the hour he has left on the ice.

Then, just like he always does, Yuri disappears into the ballet studio. This time, though, he takes Anna with him with a simple, “You were bored, right? Come on.”

They take Anna out for lunch later, just because they can. She tries to eat far more than she probably should but Yuri, much to Otabek’s confusion, limits her portions to just slightly more than the amount she would eat with their mother. Now that he’s thinking about it, that’s been the case since the other day, when Anna first came to live with them.

He makes sure not to sound disapproving when he asks Yuri about it later that night.There’s going to be a reason, of course, and knowing Yuri, it’s going to be a damn good one.

Yuri tugs at the hem of his shirt in that unconscious way he has when he’s uncomfortable. “She could get sick if she eats too much.”

Otabek blinks in confusion. “Huh?”

Yuri blushes in frustration and probably also embarrassment, since Otabek is sure that he isn’t used to openly caring about someone. “She’s… her stomach is… smaller than it should be. She can’t eat that much yet or she’ll get sick. I noticed when I picked her up the other day that she hadn’t been eating enough.”

“Oh.” That makes sense. It hits Otabek suddenly that if Yuri has been thinking about things like this, there must be a million other things on his mind right now. He’s torn between admiration and worry. _Are you okay?_ he wants to ask, but he knows better. It won’t be received well, especially when he’s tired.

“Yeah.” Yuri turns around and tugs his shirt over his head. Otabek averts his eyes, as he’s sure Yuri expects him to do. He catches a glimpse of the light grey material of Yuri’s sports binder as his gaze moved across the room. “I’m not my mother, if that was what you were asking.”

“I would _never_.” The passion in Otabek’s voice even surprises him. He hears Yuri suck in a breath and continues, surprising himself yet again. “You could never be like her, or treat Anna the way she did. I wouldn’t insult you like that.”

The _I love you too much_ goes unsaid, but even without looking at Yuri, Otabek is sure that he heard it all the same. It’s humiliating, but he can’t bring himself to be sorry that he said what he did. It’s true.

Yuri doesn’t show any sign of acknowledging the elephant in the room though, which is less of a surprise. It’s a good thing. He’s dealing with too much right now; Otabek wants to help ease his stress, not be a cause of it. They go to bed as usual, without talking much about anything else. Still, he can’t help that his heart skips a beat when he wakes up the next day with Yuri curled into his side again.

It’s a few weeks before Yuri finds a tutor for Anna. When he does, she spends her days at the rink with the man doing schoolwork. Otabek learns that she’s absolutely terrible at math, but she’s picking up English much faster than any of them ever did. Once that’s dealt with, Yuri all but demands to know if there are any classes that Anna actually _wants_ to take. After a week of needling, Anna finally admits to being interested in acting. Otabek doesn’t want to know how, but Yuri manages to get her into the best acting classes in the area, with lessons twice a week. There are a million other little logistical things that Yuri handles with a surprising amount of grace, considering the stress he’s under with his own life.

Otabek supposes that it’s nothing that Yuri hasn’t already been doing, so it’s probably only marginally more stressful than the first time he did all this, two years ago. Though, as far as Otabek is aware, he’d asked Victor to help last time.

“How’s your short program coming?” he asks cautiously, after one particularly long day. Anna is doing homework in her room, and Yuri is sprawled out on the couch, his head in Otabek’s lap.

“It’s fine. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it's going fine,” Yuri admits after a moment. He’s still looking at the television, and he sounds beyond exhausted.

“Physically or…” Otabek is afraid to ask otherwise, since it could upset him.

Luckily, Yuri just sighs and turns his face toward the television. “Not physically. Not really.”

And that’s the end of it. Otabek doesn’t press any further about it, since it looks like Yuri has a handle on things. Or, as much of a handle as can be expected.

When he got to Russia originally, Otabek knew, to some extent, that he would be seeing a different side to Yuri; living with someone, even his best friend, was bound to have an impact on their views on each other. He didn’t expect so much to happen in the first month, of course, but he’s even more surprised that nothing has changed.

 _I was hoping we’d at least get a little annoyed with each other,_ he thinks, wondering even now why he would want that. _Maybe I just wanted something to change._

He stares down at the person in his lap; a lot has changed, he knows, but everything between them has stayed the same. There are little things, of course: they’re much more tactile with each other now, though that may just be the fact that they aren’t three thousand miles away from each other, and it seems like maybe Yuri is able to be more vulnerable around Otabek, which is a win in and of itself.

They don’t see the short program in the studio this time. Yuri absolutely forbids it, and they respect his wishes. But that means that by the time they _do_ get to see it, it’s been over a month. There’s a story in his free skate, and they’ve only seen the end of it.

Much as he hates to admit it, it makes Otabek as impatient to see the beginning as everyone else.

Which is why, when Yakov announces that everyone but Yuri is going to be doing off-rink conditioning for the day, there’s an excited energy running through the skaters and even Anna and her tutor. No one says a word, simply getting off the ice and into normal shoes.

Yuri looks unusually nervous when he laces his skates, hands shaking. Otabek remembers what he said about it being less physically difficult, and more mentally taxing.

Before he heads for the bleachers, Otabek stops and squeezes Yuri’s shoulder. “You’ll do fine. It’s practice.” _I believe in you._ It speaks volumes that Yuri actually leans into his touch instead of freezing, like he normally does. He must be stressed out of his mind if he’s actually accepting help on any level in public.

 _Hm,_ Otabek realizes. _Maybe something has changed after all._


	5. Know Somehow It's Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, even letting your deepest, darkest secrets out into the open can be a breath of fresh air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey i'm not dead!!!

_ It’s just practice,  _ he assures himself, repeating Beka’s words in his mind in an attempt to calm himself down. He takes a deep breath as he glides out to the center of the rink, trying to forget that this time, there are people watching. That his rinkmates and sister are curious as all hell to see the beginning of the story that they only just learned the end to. 

Yuri swallows the anxiety beginning to build when he gets on the ice and into position, hands clasped to his chest and head hanging. He’s the very image of innocence, or at least that’s what Lilia told him when she helped him decide on this opening pose. He looks vulnerable, and in this moment, on the ice with this program for the first time in front of other people, he feels it too. 

The anxiety forms a lump in his throat that compounds with the nausea. It’s fine, though. He’s used to it; it’s a fairly normal response to a program like this, that takes his darkest moments and lays them bare for the world to see. The story begins to play in his mind.

The first notes are quiet, dangerous. When they play through the speakers, the beginnings of the story begin to flash through his mind as an inseparable mix of memories and metaphors. He pushes off, lowering his arms and raising them in time with the music, but never letting them move above his chest.  _ Play, be happy, but never be free. Freedom is danger. You are a prisoner who doesn’t know she’s confined.  _

The music escalates and Yuri takes off into his first jump, a double loop-triple lutz combination. The ice that chips off the rink when he lands covers his bare skin like shards of frozen glass and the bile rises in his throat. The knot in his chest tightens and loosens at the same time, cementing his suspicions in place. He has to do this to let go. 

Quad Salchow, his signature jump.  _ Someone recognizes you.  _ Triple loop-quad lutz. He fucks up the quad lutz, which is no surprise. He doesn’t even care. _ You’re free, with everything that entails.  _ His step sequences and transitions are considerably more lighthearted than they were at the start. He’s nearly dancing on the ice for a few, blissful seconds. Another quad Salchow, arm up as far as it can go. Then the music gets dangerous again. He takes off into a flying sit spin, head down as his skates shave ice off from the rink that burns in its coolness.  _ In other words, your freedom is a cage. A cage that will hold you until you are executed.  _

Otabek’s face flashes through his mind for an instant, reigniting that fighting spirit that’s kept him going all these years, but Yuri stomps it down with a particularly vicious kickoff for his final jump, a triple flip. 

He isn’t supposed to be fighting. He’s a prisoner, a criminal trapped in a world where he amounts to nothing. His skates scrape against the ice as he stops, wrists crossed in front of him and head bowed for his finishing pose. He’s breathing heavily, which is something he expected to happen, given exactly what this skate is. He can’t fight in this skate, can’t be the soldier that everyone thinks he is. That’s what makes it so hard, and so uncharacteristically meek and vulnerable.

Because in this short program, he  _ is  _ Yulia, or as close as he’s ever going to get again. It’s her debut skate as well as her retiring one, the last time he’s ever going to let her on the ice with him again.

This is something he has to do to truly let her go. To let go of that part of his life that made him so miserable, now that his mother and father are actually out of the picture for good. He can be truly reborn as Yuri. That doesn’t stop the nausea from building up throughout the skate, and it doesn’t change the fact that as soon as he gets off the rink, he’s pulling off his skates as quickly as he can. Yakov is gruff as usual, but he isn’t yelling; dickish though he may be, he and Grandpa have been here the longest. He knows exactly what that program is doing to Yuri, and exactly why Yuri has to do it anyway. But he is still a coach, and this is still a program that Yuri is going to perform. He has to critique it and give Yuri feedback, even if it’s quieter than usual. 

Yuri ignores it and makes a beeline for the locker rooms, aiming for the bathrooms when he gets there. The stall door slams behind him. He drops to his knees without locking it and shudders, stomach rolling dangerously. He retches into the toilet, emptying his stomach. He’s more than glad that he tied his hair back, but the rest of him is miserable. He feels itchy, like his skin is too tight. Like his body isn’t his own. When nothing more comes up, the feeling doesn’t go away. He chokes on air and tries to catch his breath between fits of gagging. Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably, making his eyes burn. 

He feels a hesitant hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles even as Yuri’s body spasms. “Let it out, Yura,” Otabek says. 

“A-Anna,” Yuri gasps. “Beka, where--” He’s cut off by another wave of nausea. 

“The team is staying with her. Victor is guarding the door,” Otabek assures him. “She’s alright.”

His touch is hesitant, unsure. Beka has one hand on his back and one hand next to Yuri’s. He’s not initiating more contact than necessary, Yuri realises, breathing heavily. It’s sweet, but he can’t really consider the possible impact this is going to have on him later. He just needs to know that someone is  _ there.  _ He needs this body he was cursed with to do something right for a change, so he grabs his best friend’s hand and holds it like a lifeline. Beka squeezes back just as tightly, even when Yuri slumps down away from the toilet, trembling with exertion and self-loathing. 

It takes a while for him to be stable enough to stand on his own feet; twenty minutes, thirty, an hour, he couldn’t say even if he cared to. He asks Beka to grab his bag and changes into his sports bra, because even the custom made sport binder (Yuri is sure that Victor had the damn thing designed just for him and he’s grudgingly grateful) has limits, and those limits are essentially the massive physical exertion that comes with off-rink training. 

The rest of the day is a blur of cardio and endurance training, shared with the whole team. No one mentions the routine, which he’s quietly grateful for; it’s nothing special in terms of difficulty, especially compared to his free skate, so they can all get away without pretending to be incredibly impressed or surprised. The story behind it is intense enough that he’s hoping none of them ask about it. They already know, anyway.

Yuri suspects that someone warned Anna not to bring it up either, because despite being her usual chatty self, she doesn’t mention the skate even once. She expertly navigates their apartment on crutches, heating up leftovers from dinner last night and taking her plate to her room. Her portions are normal sized now, thankfully, and she’s been spending a lot of time in there working on homework (and yes, he checked, several times; she really is doing homework). Yuri suspects that it’s a way for her to get some time alone, since she spends so much of her time surrounded by people now. 

For his part, Yuri brushes his teeth as soon as he walks in the door, feeling disgusting. He still doesn’t want to eat anything, but Beka puts a protein shake in his hand with a look that allows no room for argument. They both know that replenishing calories is necessary, no matter how crappy he feels. Luckily, the shake is easier for him to digest than actual food. 

They don’t speak much, but then they never do. Some random movie plays on the TV while Beka eats and Yuri nurses his fake-chocolate flavored shake. There’s no noise from Anna’s room, though she does come out once or twice. 

“Well isn’t this just domestic as hell,” Yuri mutters sometime around eleven. They should be going to sleep soon, but he’s too comfortable here, curled into Beka’s side with his best friend’s fingers running through his hair. “We’re as bad as Victor and Katsudon.”

He’s not supposed to hear it. Hell, he’s fairly sure Beka didn’t even mean to say it. But his quiet “I wish” doesn’t go unnoticed by Yuri.

And, in turn, Yuri’s unconscious tensing doesn’t go unnoticed by Otabek. 

“I didn’t mean to say that.”

_ I didn’t mean to say that.  _ Not,  _ I didn’t mean that,  _ or even,  _ that wasn’t what I meant.  _ Beka isn’t a liar, and neither is Yuri, though in this instance he’d like to lie and say he hasn’t been aware of his own feelings and Otabek’s for quite a while. 

“It’s fine. I do too.” And no, he has no idea why he’s saying this kind of sappy shit after his disastrous short program earlier, when he  _ knows  _ he shouldn’t be making declarations like that because he's probably not in the right headspace. But it’s out there and now there’s no going back. “But we both already know that.”

Otabek’s fingers freeze for an instant in their path along his scalp, then he sighs and continues running them through Yuri’s hair. “I guess so.”

There’s quiet for a while as the television drones on some late night movie that neither of them is paying attention to. Beka, surprisingly, is the first to speak. 

“I was going to say something while I was here, but then everything got crazy. I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Yuri bites back his immediate  _ Well that was fucking stupid,  _ because he understands, even if he doesn’t agree. It would have just been another thing to think about among the hundreds of other things happening in his mind at any given time recently. At the same time, what’s one more thing to think about among so many others? How hard can it really be?

“Makes sense,” he says instead, because yeah, it does. Even if he doesn’t necessarily  _ agree,  _ it does make sense. Potya jumps up on the couch and curls up in his lap, tail flicking over Beka’s knees. “You don’t have to worry about me, though. I can handle it.”

He hears a huff that sounds more like amusement than irritation. “You shouldn’t have to  _ handle _ it, Yura. It’s not meant to be a chore.”

“I know that,” Yuri grumbles, but he knows what Otabek is actually saying:  _ Until you’re in a better mental space, the answer is no. _

As much as he wants to fight back-- and he  _ does _ want to fight back, because it was easy to ignore when they were hiding it but now that everything is in the open it’s hard not to just  _ go _ for it --he doesn’t. It’s always been one of his hard and fast rules not to make major decisions in a bad headspace. 

Besides, if Beka has made up his mind on this, then Yuri will be an adult for once and accept it. It’s not like it’s going to be forever, and as long as he’s sure of that, he thinks he’ll be fine. It’s been a long day anyway; he’s not sure that he even has the energy left to argue the point, and he knows Beka knows that. 

For right now, there’s a cat purring in his lap and he’s curled up on the couch with his best friend watching bad TV, and for the first time in weeks, his mind is quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna end it here because I have an idea of where to go for the next installment ^.^

**Author's Note:**

> So... Thoughts?


End file.
